warriors of the word
by jaxi
Summary: the follow on from ancient ties, Mar Fenal and his host head toImperial space to free an allie and Jubal is given a new charge, the new Dark Acolyte
1. Chapter 1

Warriors of the Word

1.

The beasts of the warp hungrily snapped at the astral figure looming amongst them but, try as they might they could not get a peace of him. Protected by portents of great power they could only watch as their prey moved away.

He returned to his body that was safe within the confines of his mighty vessel. His jaunt into the either had proved uneventful. Since leaving Sicarus they had continued on their way and the ships battle lust was beginning to rumble once more.

There had been the occasional battles with the Alpha Legion and Emperors Children who had dared to come into his way but not enough to calm his vessels raging love for wanton destruction.

It had always been a source of pride to him that the Word Bearers of all the traitor legions were still a coherent legion that adhered to the rules of brotherhood and the ideals of the ancient Astartes.

They had remained as an intact legion doing the will of the mighty Primarch whereas the other traitor legions were all condemned to being nothing more then roving war bands who, occasionally when Abaddon deemed it pulled together to strike out at the Imperium.

Mar Felan had to admit, that not since the mighty Horus had there been a Warmaster successful enough to pull the true legions of Astartes together. Abaddon certainly was a favoured son of Chaos, his 13th black crusade had seen to that and he supposed that one day if his success continued to mount that he would become a demon prince.

Although the true Astartes had not won the 13th Crusade they had gained enough of a foothold on Cadia to worry the Imperium more then they ever had before.

Come the next crusade then they would be the victors. Try as they might the dogs of the Emperor were unable to shift the forces of chaos once they had dug in, they were like leeches that refused to move and so it should be.

There would come a day when humans would cheer the return off the true legions and curse the names of those that had let them down, when that day come they would be led into a glorious new era and the failures of the carrion crow of an emperor would be forgotten.

No all was good in the long term future but it was just a shame that only the Word Bearers kept a semblance of a legion as it should be, think what would happen if they had all kept to their brotherhoods and not split into petty feuding war bands?

Now that would be glorious indeed.

He rose to his feet and stretched his muscles to loosen them, stiffness having set in during his medative state. He always felt calmer after allowing his soul to soar through the warp.

The business with Balthazar had unsettled his soul somewhat. They had left him in the care of the Dark Council but Mar Felan and Tor Panarl had felt the aura of power that was building up in the mighty citadel, one that had not been felt since the day of Lorgars ascension. Both warriors knew what that had meant and neither of them had felt the least bit sorry for the renegade. He had cast his die millennia ago; let him live with his actions. As benevolent as their holy lord could be he could also be quite tormenting when he believed that a son was usurping his power.

The battle with Balthazar had also drained a lot of his strength and it made the Dark Apostle acutely aware that one day he was going to join the Primarchs side and to leave his host without a Dark Apostle that they could trust and believe in would not do.

It was time for him to choose a Dark Acolyte, a disciple that he could mould into the perfect Apostle, the true guardian of his hosts' spirit. Question was who to choose? So far he had not seen one brother display the portents, except that is Jubal and speaking with the voice of Lorgar would certainly put him in a strong position but the sergeant was playing it down, saying that he had been in the right place at the right time and it could have just as easily been anyone else.

He allowed himself a wry smirk, he was certainly a son of Lorgar and maybe had times been different he would have been a true son of Colchis and what a son of Colchis he would have made.

No he would have to watch his host over the coming days and see which one of them bore out the aura that would enable him to be a great spiritual leader and one that would guide his host true.

Jubal stood watching the berserkers in their arena work out their frustrations at lack of battle. The last battle they had was with the Emperors Children and right now they were in the arena with two of them.

He smiled a little as the Emperors Children used whatever they had to try and sway the warriors of Khorne but they were barking up the wrong tree in his opinion.

Slannesh and Khorne never saw eye to eye and would remain bitter enemies to the end of times.

Still it made good sport to watch and he had done his duties for the day now he was standing with his fellow sergeants, a huge tankard in his hand cheering his brothers as they cut chunks from the dandy warriors of Fulgrim.

San Jarka shook his head a little as one of Fulgrims sons gestured what he would do with his sword and it looked quite inventive. "I suppose we should be grateful that isn't Lucius the Eternal down there" the possessed sergeant mused.

"Who?" Jubal asked his eyes still firmly fixed on the entertainment below.

"A champion of Holy Slannesh and Lord Fulgrim, it is said that he who kills Lucius and takes even one moment of pleasure in the fact changes into Lucius and his soul is forever trapped in the armour. Not a nice way to go for Lucius is a cruel bastard; I heard a tale once that a Lunar Wolf as they were then, broke his nose in a fight, a training fight but a fair one. Lucius like most of his depraved brothers had a sense of pretty boy pride about their looks, Lucius more so then the rest so with a broken nose it marred his good looks forever and he took to scarring his face for every mission he completed in the name of the Primarch Fulgrim."

"And he earned the favour of Slannesh" Jubal finished.

"That he did brother, he truly is immortal, just be grateful that we don't have him here."

A cheer went up from the other warriors, the sergeants joined the cheer as their fellow sergeant Bal Jassia ripped the head off the prancing Emperors Child who had gestured at him and repaid it in kind by impaling the head of the Astartes on his own sword.

The floor was slick with blood and muck but it would soon be over. The two Word Bearers of Khorne however kept their footing and turned on the last remaining Emperors child.

He led them a merry dance and the watching warriors fell silent as the pink armoured warrior took his attacks at precisely the right moment. Perhaps this one was not the easy prey that they had thought and now Bal Jassia, calmed from his rage stepped back letting his brother prove himself in the arena.

Lar Monts drained his tankard and leant on the wall. There was a perfectly good reason why the viewing seats were a good deal away from the centre. If stirred enough they would do what any berserker of Khorne would do, still he knew that Captain Sadrocas had enough power over his warriors to stop them if needs be.

He was still recovering from his wounds received on Pratis Majoris, a seer of the tribe had got lucky and struck his jump pack causing him to land sheer against the valley wall, he ended up getting cut in numerous places with axes and spears.

However of them all it was Sar Jarka and Kalneth Garakan who had suffered the most, the sergeant and his captain were the only ones to walk out that battle and Kalneth was still in devout prayer to heal his soul.

As the Emperors Child made a twisting attack at the Word Bearer, the axe came out of seemingly nowhere and literally cut the Astartes in two.

Bathed in blood he roared his affirmation to Khorne and the sergeants withdrew, the sport over for now. They were joined by Bal Jassia and headed to their own private area chatting animatedly with him about his own fight and that of his battle brother.

Jubal paused for a moment looking around him thinking he could hear a voice from somewhere.

"Jubal!" Menra Harkan called "Come on brother there is ale to be drinking and stories to tell. I want to hear about your battles alongside the Black Cardinal"

Jubal nodded putting the voice down to the chattering spirits of the warp that accompanied their host and caught his friends up. They were his friends of that he was in no doubt. He had been welcomed into the sergeants' inner circle upon their return to Sicarus.

Not only because the Holy Primarch had borrowed his body to speak to his sons but because he had saved the Dark Apostle from death, by doing that he had saved them too.

He finally found his place within the 47th one that he knew he could serve the rest of his long life knowing that they would give their blood for him as he would for them, anything else was immaterial really as long as he never shamed his Coryphaus or his Dark Apostle then he was sure that his tenure in the 47th host would bring them all honour in Holy Lorgars eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The world of Dargas Prime was a desert world with temperatures that during the day soared into the hundreds of degrees making it extremely hot and uncomfortable to be around. At night the temperatures plummeted to temperatures so cold that it could freeze the brass nuts off a monkey.

With a history that dated back to old Night Dargas Prime had been a paradise world, discovered by the Imperial Fists they had encountered minimal resistance to make the world compliant which pleased the sons of Dorn greatly. Sometimes it was nice to have a peaceful arrival. They made the world accessible to the Imperium The Emperors Champion pleased with the natural formations of the mountains that would make good defence bastions if it were needed when it came to fighting the Xenos scum that continuingly threatened the worlds of man.

So that is exactly what they did. The Bastion of Haganash was said to be one of the greatest designs of engineering in the sector. Its natural setting making it perfect in attack and defence.

Somewhere along the way with the Mechanicum exploiting the natural resources of the world and chugging masses of polluted toxins into the air, the world of Dagas Prime began to change.

As if to compound its misery its inhabitants were attacked by demons of the warp and had it not been for the timely intervention of the Grey Knights then the world would have been lost.

The eco-system had been turned on its head and by now all paradise had become a vast desert but the Mechanicum had insisted that a presence remained on the world to protect them while they continued their work although what that work was could be anybodies guess. Everyone knew that the Mechanicum had their secrets guarded jealously by warriors that would not desert them.

As it was the populace were no longer there, they had either died in the wars that had plagued their world or evacuated it. Now the Imperial Guard had a posting there to protect the bastion from whatever else might be waiting in the wings.

Sergeant Peter Holt of the 125th Yorkana Rifles exhaled heavily and pulled his gloves on. It was night and the temperatures were dropping steadily in another couple of hours he'd be heading in for coffee then would continue his duty from the watch tower, at least it would be warmer there.

He was in his mid forties and a veteran of numerous battlefields with many enemies of the Throne and he had a few medals and citations to give him credit but now he was stuck in this Emperor forsaken sand bowl guarding Emperor knew what,

He didn't know who would want to attack a worthless piece of junk like this place was. He lit a thin cigar and inhaled deeply.

Taking his cap off he ran a hand through his shaved greying black hair and glanced up at the sky. It was a clear night so that meant it was going to be cold but if he looked hard enough he thought he might be able to pinpoint where his home world was, not that he had been there for three decades.

Part of him prayed that he would meet his death on a world with ale, women, seas of pure blue and a pollutant free atmosphere but the way guardsmans luck ran he doubted it would be anywhere so perfect.

"Sarge" He turned at the voice and smiled a little as corporal Tillia Sagnet handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

She was beautiful even in this harsh environment that stripped away a mans soul bit by bit and possibly their appreciation of a good-looking woman. Her build was lean and athletic, she had good eyesight and was one of the best scouts his unit had.

He gratefully sipped the liquid nodding his thanks. "This will warm the cockles lass" He happily sighed.

Tillia moved her auburn hair from her eyes and glanced at the looming tower that jutted centrepiece of their citadel. It was there that the Mechanicum made their place and woe betide anyone who went in with their express permission.

"What do you suppose is so damn important to them sarge that we have to stay on this sand bowl?"

He turned to look at the tower himself and shook his head "Don't know corporal but whatever it is its big enough for them to have all of us here, ten titans and twenty war hounds not to mention ten complete regiments of Imperial Guard us, the Camadern 27th and 28th Desert riders, Mendos 11th armoured brigade, Tarsa 115th armoured war dogs and 97th infantry; Ryman 23rd, 26th and 29th armoured cavalry and Zendarian 50th regiment of foot." He shrugged "they run this place and everyone bows to them even though they treat us less then better then rats in a cage. Carry on with your duties girl, lets not be found wanting"

"Sure Sarge"

He watched her move away, appreciating the sway of her hips as she went then returned to drinking his coffee. Nope nothing exciting happened here and he was hoping that they would all be able to finish their rotation and get off this rock. What he wouldn't give to be fighting a heretic army or even Orcs right now was unbelievable.

Brother Ferron had been at prayer for over thirty hours and he was still contend to pray to the gods, pray to his Primarch and read the holy words of his Primarch.

He had been a faithful servant of Lorgar for a thousand years and was one of the assault squad but lately he had been plagued by visions.

Or at least he thought they were visions perhaps more to the point dreams. Now as he knelt in his cell he tried to calm his soul the way that he had been taught unaware that he was being watched.

In his minds eye he saw a world that had once been of beauty but was now a world of shifting golden sand. There was a battle a great powerful demon with the power to destroy armies scouring the lands and laying waste to all it saw.

Its warriors tore the bones from the humans like they were nothing; victory was in its grasp but then came the warriors in grey.

Their losses were great and still they moved in perfect unison disciplined in their execution. The demon soared above them like a great dragon of old; the power in its mighty talons never ceasing to do what it had been born to do.

It was a beautiful creature of gold and silver, its stare shattered souls rendering man and Astartes alike mindless.

He began to stagger a little and tremble as the intensity of the vision seared into his mind refusing to let go its hold. He felt two hands hold him, keeping him steady as the vision played out.

The Grey Knights, the purely psyker warriors of the Astartes unleashed their psionic power and tore away the demons power sending him spiralling to the ground in pain, agony and defiance on his lips.

He fell so deep that the Grey Knights believed he was gone and the land was saved. Brother Ferron shook like he was in the throws of a palsy and found himself lain to the floor.

"Alcatran" he moaned, "Alcatran is waiting"

Mar Felan stayed with the brother until his fit had passed murmuring words of peace over him to calm his soul then sat back on his haunches. He knew the name; there was not a Dark Apostle that did not know the name of Alcatran, Prince of Power.

He rested a hand on Ferrons shoulder when the warrior was recovered he would talk to him, He had stopped by because he had heard of Ferrons devotional prayers and now he realised that he may just have found his Dark Acolyte.

Alcatran was a demon of great power, one of the favoured of chaos undivided and a known ally of the Word Bearers but he had a habit of doing things that seemed a little off base and unpredictable to the point of occasional restlessness.

He had access to weapons and technology long lost, older even then the Necrons. He supposed that the Grey Knights had thought they had merely banished him and not gone looking for him but they would.

They would free the Prince of Power and they would fight alongside him when he tore the heart from the Imperium. As he glanced down at the recovering brother he saw the tell tale signs of a chosen man. The aura changed from a steady blue to a vibrant red and gold.

Mar Felan knew now he had his apprentice and he had a mission to take his men on, with the knowledge the demon possessed then no army in the Imperium would stand against them and maybe they would be the ones to over throw the rotting carcass of the Emperor and not Abaddon the Despoiler.

Rar Kane stood proudly before his master; the greatest assault warrior in the host had been summoned before the Dark Apostle and told that he would have to relinquish his command over Brother Ferron. When he had enquired why and if the lad had done anything wrong that warranted punishment the Dark Apostle had put him straight. Gar Ferron was to be the new Dark Acolyte.

Kane was proud indeed, no warrior of his coterie had ever shown such aptitude and it pleased him greatly that a lad he had taken and moulded from a newborn brother to warrior of blessed fortune sat well with him.

He stood before the Masters apprentice appraising him with his stern gaze. "Do my teachings well and learn from the master, your destiny lays in his hand now – my lord"

That took the young apprentice back a little and he stood straighter in the facer of his former commander.

"I will never forget what you have taught me sir"

"My name is Rar Kane and you no loner call me sir or lord, it is I who will call you that," Rar Kane bowed his head and turned to the Dark Apostle "May I have a warrior to replace him?"

"Of course. I believe that the scout sergeant has overseen new novitiates into full Astartes take your choice from there"

Rar Kane bowed his head to both men and left the Dark Apostle with his charge. He bade him to sit down and perched against his desk.

"You will do everything I tell you, your every waking hour when not in battle will be dedicated to learning the Book of Lorgar until every word of it burns in your mind and is not removed. You will learn our history until you can quote it back to me. Then when you have done that I will set you new things to learn. If I tell you to not attempt something it is not because I doubt you it is because I think you are not ready.

I demand your complete attention and do not be too eager to run before you can walk, it might be another hundred years before you take my place or a thousand years but the longer you are my apprentice the more you will learn and the wiser you will become"

"I understand Lord"

"Good, now about your vision. Can you describe the world to me?"

Ferron was silent for a moment and the Dark Apostle was silent patiently waiting for his apprentice.

"There was a great bastion there, calved from the rock face itself with a mighty tower that rose dead centre of the citadel" he paused recalling the memory, his new teacher still sitting patiently and listening "There were four great turrets and a curtain wall that slides down to below ground"

"The world?"

"Covered in sand my lord totally desert world my lord"

"The main tower what colour was it, red brick? Black?"

Ferron closed his eyes again and drew the picture from his memory "Black my lord pure black"

Mar Felan rose from his desk and paced around the room. There was only one citadel he knew of that description. He activated his vox feed and told the master where to go.

Then he called for his Coryphaus. Tor Panarl arrived within moments of his summons and bowed low.

"You called my Lord?"

"How familiar are you with the Haganash Bastion?"

"I have heard of it my lord. Built by the sons of Dorn during the Great Crusade"

"Familiarise yourself with it and have the host assembled, it is time to go to war once more" the Dark Apostle motioned with his hand at his apprentice "and meet the Dark Acolyte."

Tor Panarl bowed his head in Far Ferrons direction "I will assign a bodyguard for you Dark Acolyte"

"Have Jubal look after him," The Dark Apostle told him "I have you and Jubal is capable enough to split his duties"

"I will carry out your instructions now my lord."

The Coryphaus left his master and went to do as he was ordered. Mar Felan glanced at his pupil "Now your training will begin."


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Whilst the Bastion of Haganash went about its daily business and what some considered boring and mundane duties deep below the bastion was a different story,

The central tower, home of the Mechanicum members went far deeper then anyone actually realised.

The natural rock formation of the bastion allowed for natural caverns that needed little if any restructuring. The walls were all sheer, no ledges or footholds the only way out was the smoothed walkway that ran its way like a long coiled snake.

The path ran for another ten feet downwards and came to an abrupt end before two huge steel doors guarded by two of the biggest guardians that the approaching Tech Adept had ever seen. They were standing like stoic centuries their eyes dimmed but the young adept had no misgivings about the fact that they were ever watchful. Their weapons were held across their chests like space marines holding their bolters at half arms, again he was under no illusion that if they had to stop an intruder then they would swing into action faster then a man could breathe. With ammunition capable of blowing even the armour of a space marine apart, these guardians were totally different to any he had ever seen before.

Whilst their bodies were mainly human their faces were horrifying to look upon, twisted parodies of old earth stories of gargoyles, it made him shiver to even look upon them. The doors were six inches thick and twenty feet high, only opened if the correct incantations were made or if the master wanted visitors there with him.

He stood before the door and placed his hand in the alcove at the side, he didn't even flinch as the small needles within entered his hand. He was however, acutely aware that the guardians were watching him.

"Tech Adept Naylon Kendral"

He jumped at the voice and glanced up to see one of the guardians heads turn and look down upon him its twisted features lit with an unearthly glow as its eyes glowed a murky, sinister green.

He prayed that the old Magos had not forgotten that he had sent for him for if he had then his life was going to over in a very bloody way. The wait seemed to stretch forever then the needles withdrew and the Guardian returned to at rest, the doors opened with a rumble that sounded like an aftershock of an earthquake. He steeled himself and entered the room.

Tech Adept Naylon Kendral had little if any augments and they were mainly under the skin except for his augmented left eye and that had been due to an accident on Mars several years ago.

He made his way through the room and tried to ignore the palatable stomach churning fear he felt whenever he was in this place. There were rows upon rows of mindless servitors working at varying stations, the sound of their working did little to calm him and he found himself whispering a prayer to the Omnissiah as he made his way towards the great staircase in the centre.

He moved down the spiral staircase and stopped short as he saw the gold sarcophagus and it was the biggest thing he had ever seen. Completley encased but the power eminating from it was more then he had ever known

"Tech Adept Naylon Kendral welcome to the greatest knowledge our order has faced since the time of Kelbor-Hal"

He turned to see the Magos move towards him. The Magos was more machine then human these days, his legs were gone replaced by a chasis with tracks, behind him and to the side of him were six huge mechandrils that did all the work his hand arms and hands would once have done and they were now hanging limply by his side useslees and withering.

His face was like a metal skull only a little brain matter left the rest were a nest of circuits and processors. He spoke with little emotion, everything flat and monotoned. Naylon had served the Magos for over a century and had become one of his trusted staff.

He was rarely seen out of this room, whatever communicationshe had with the commanders of the Bastion was done through vox communications. The rumour was that he was so old he could not even moved from his control centre but that had been an elaborate lie to stop any Imperial commanders from interferring in the real nature of the work here.

Magos Katara Hol whilst ancient was not as acient as some of his peers he was over 900 years old and the illusion of being a helpless remnants of a Preist of Mars served his purposes well.

"My Magos" Naylon bowed his head "What is this?"

The Magos cocked his head, a curious side effect and some human remnant of inquisitiveness that reminded Naylon of some skeletal machine eyeing up a morsel of prey before dragging it to the underworld to feed.

"Can you be trusted Naylon Kendral?"

"My oath is to the Omnissiah my lord of course I can be trusted. I have served you well for over one hundred years"

That seemed to satisfy his master, the Magos turned his back and moved away towards an information cogitator. Naylon followed his master then sat down.

"All you need to know is in there Naylon Kendral"

Naylon plugged himself into the cogitator eager to assimilate the information that it contained, it was to be the biggest mistake he had ever made.

The _Diablous Infernos_ roared into Imperial space, the ship was hunting again and it was eager to kill. Its corrupted spirit wanting nothing more then to spill blood in the name of the gods.

It entered orbit around the gas giant neighbour of Dagas Prime that would shield her from any imperial watch monitors. Her landing bays were busy. Stormbirds and Thunderhawks were taking off conveying the host to the planet. Smaller transport vessels conveyed the cult army, red-garbed fanatics, the Imperial Guard that had betrayed their oaths to the Emperor throwing their lot in with the Word Bearers

When they came into land it was nighttime. Tor Panarl had made the landing site ten miles from the Bastion, which would give them time to assemble their forces and not be seen by the enemy until they were ready to be seen.

He stood watching as the human cattle that would die before the blessed brothers brought themselves to attention before his scrutiny. He moved along their rows not really caring about their affiliation all he cared about was that they were prepared to die in the name of the gods and for the prosperity of the sons of Lorgar.

He had little time for Cult fanatics to him they were nothing more then human scum, they had betrayed their people to serve the greater power but he was under no illusion what the gods did with insignificant insects like this, the same thing he did and he would kill them all now if it was required of him.

He moved to the former Imperial Guard regiments. Now these he could trust. They had fought and bled in the crucible of battle. They had seen the true folly of the Emperors ways, they understood the sacrifice the Carrion Lord demanded of his subjects and the fact they never got any thanks for it.

Their Warmasters sullying the title with their never-ending source of human cannon fodder and the cost of lives meant nothing to them, no more then the swatting of flies. When Horus had been alive he valued the lives of his Astartes and his Guard, not like the modern counterparts, they weren't even fit to clean the Warmasters boots.

He stopped before a man daubed with the ritual scars of chaos undivided. His uniform bore no guard insignia just the insignia of the Word Bearers 47th Host but he knew the man was formally of the Caltanan 23rd Rifles. His eyes burned with hatred and Tor Panarl went over what he knew of the man. Colonel Franklin Gerhardt, a man that had witnessed the true nature of the loyalist marines when they deserted the world of Neros IX.

The Dark Angels had come to aid them but at the last moment left them all to die at the hands of the Orcs like they were beyond even notice. Gerhardt, battle hardened and fed up with seeing his men and women killed for no reason other then the will of a drunken lord did what was expected of him and it was he and his other commanders of the Derian 27th armoured corp. and the Mendoza 35th and 25th that had seen the Orcs back.

Bitter that he had lost many due to the desertion of the so-called Emperors finest he found an outlet for his anger. He was fed up with the Commissar who had berated his men and women saying that the victory was not complete, that they had shamed the Emperor in their slow advance that his favoured sons had been forced to abandon them.

Seeing the downtrodden faces and weary expressions he moved to the Commissar and shot him point blank through the head. It had been a signal to every other commander and they killed their Commissars.

Tor Panarl realised that when men and women, warriors that had seen the worst the universe had to offer and gave it the best they could to be told they had let their god down so bad that he had withdrawn his favoured sons it would break them.

They didn't find the traitor guard, the traitor guard found them and aided them against the forces of Solarnus XII as the Word Bearers were currently battling against the Howling Griffons they were grateful for the help of the four regiments.

Since that day they had been the guard attachment to the 47th Host and Tor Panarl could work with a man like this.

They had uniforms made that were reminiscent of the Word Bearers colours and were christened the 47th guard of the Dark Host.

"Tell me Colonel how are the troops bearing up? Are they ready to bring death to the false god?" The Coryphaus clasped his huge hands behind his back.

Gerhardt raised his gaze to the Coryphaus. He was a tall man for a human but he barely came up to the Word Bearers midriff.

"In the name of the master my lord and the holy Primarch always will we do honour and not disappoint you."

Tor Panarl rubbed his jaw and cast his ever-cold eyes over the assembled guard. There were a few more additions to the ranks that had been taken from the last couple of worlds they orbited and press ganged into service.

All in all they were massed as the Guard he expected and they were loyal to him and the Dark Apostle that is all that mattered to him.

"Keep an eye on the Infardi" he lowered his voice "I do not trust them"

Gerhardt cast a glanced to his left and the disgust showed on his scared face "As you order my lord"

"Have your armoured divisions ready, ours will be arriving shortly when that is done meet me in the command tent"

The Colonel bowed, Tor Panarl moved away to where his brother marines were waiting.

"Bring them down" he ordered "I Want everything ready for when the Dark Apostle gets here."

The information that was rushing through Naylons head was not only overwhelming but it drained any reasonable logic he had, only the thought of pure thinking machine man hybrids overriding all that he had been taught to believe.

The Mechanicum expressly forbade self thought in any of their constructions and more so since the Heresy that split the brotherhood in two. Now he had images in his mind of machines and man working together in perfect harmony thoughts as one, actions as one, equals and loyal to each other. It was beautiful, a fantastic thought a wonderful thought.

He could see the new Titans marching against the traitors of their former brothers their weapons destroying all that threatened the sanctity of the priesthood of Mars. Something else entered his mind. Something that wanted to show him more, show him what truly was the destiny of man.

A small voice erred on the side of caution but so lost was he in the beauty of what he saw his mind screamed out for more the thirst for knowledge was like a drug to him and all of his order. To not know everything would be a life worse then death to him.

The Magos watched as his Adept writhed in what could only be described as ecstasy the smile across his face more then any woman might have given him. He glanced back at the golden sarcophagus, yes the master would teach them all how to make the Mechanicum the greatest power in the universe.

As long as their work remained hidden, this angel of the Omnissiah was ready for them, to receive their ready souls to bring the machine god home. He had been assigned here when the last Magos had died. At first he had been told to ensure that the secrets kept since the Crusade remained but over time he had discovered the body of the great demon.

Alcatran. The great prince of chaos undivided and the one being able to bring back the Mechanicums glory days. He had zealously guarded the demon not wanting to let any know of his discovery until he was ready.

The Prince was able to speak through telepathy; its body had been shattered by the Grey Knights Psyker powers and unable to move back into the warp. It had told him what to do and in return for helping him to remain in this realm then he would teach him all he knew.

The Sarcophagus was built to exacting specifications with whatever wards the Prince asked for and in return the Magos was taught how to create a hybrid of man and machine. Such knowledge was forbidden everyone knew that but Magos Katara Hol knew that sometimes such rules had to be over ridden if they were ever to be back in their glory days and march to war in the name of the machine god.

His thirst for knowledge had allowed the great demon entry. First he convinced him to have this place fortified with warriors. The Mechanicum did not need to explain its requests and seeing as it was a bastion of importance to the Imperium being on the outskirts of the Maelstrom then it was granted.

The Priests at Mars were told that they had STC's deep within the Bastion that were unable to be moved but would be of great benefit for rebuilding the shattered planet. The very thought of STC's allowed the allocation of Titans and Warhounds to the Bastion.

Titans of the _Legio Ignatum_ and _Legio Invicta _came to the Bastion not to metniton the Imperial Guard. All told to guard the Bastion from hostile Xenos forces and that is exactly what they were doing.

Alcatran now had the Magos firmy in his grasp but it would take a little longer before he back to his full strength. Searching out his allies in the warp he found the mind of a gifted Word Bearer. Their zealous nature and their pious respect for the gods would bring them here to aid him and free him.

As laid low as he was Alcatran was still a being of power, he was giving the Magos what he wanted but the Magos believed that he had power over the prince. Let him think that, they all thought that, it was just a matter of time before his creations responded to their true masters.


End file.
